


Sometimes We Need the Past, Even if We Don't Realize It.

by AudreyRose



Series: Barton and the Former Boy Wonder [1]
Category: Dark Knight Rises (2012), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: John Blake is Dick Grayson, M/M, Porn With Plot, not much porn, or at least he was
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-12-05 04:03:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/718677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AudreyRose/pseuds/AudreyRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John isn't the same person he was as a boy. He's grown up, suffered losses, seen the unimaginable. But of course he would come to New York after all these years and run into someone from his past. The past he tries so hard to forget.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes We Need the Past, Even if We Don't Realize It.

John ducks his head as he enters the coffee shop, his collar that had been pushed up against the weather provides cover after he spots him. His mind protests that there's no way it can be him, but it is. Sure the man is older, not a scrawny boy any longer. He is a man, while he himself still has his lean boyish figure.

He orders a coffee, light cream, heavy sugar and prays silently that his childhood friend doesn't recognize him. Of course he would come to New York after all these years and run into someone from his past. He feels eyes on him and he breathes out, attempting to ignore it.

Its not like their friendship ended on a sour note, even if John had been bitter for a long time afterwards. But he hadn't been John then, hadn't been the boy who finished growing up in a orphanage. Hadn't seen the monsters that crept in the shadows. He had barely seen anything outside of the circus before he'd come along with his older brother who pushed around all the younger kids who'd messed with his kid brother, at least for a while.

He remembered later watching the boy practice and practice his archery skills, as if his life depended on it. And now he realizes that it more than likely did, he remembered how if he would miss a shot the archer would turn up with finger shaped bruises on his wrists, dark marks on his arms. No one else noticed, or if they had they hadn't really cared, or were scared of the man who'd caused them.

"Dick?" the voice is slightly raspy, surprisingly quieter than he would have thought the other man capable. He doesn't want to turn around, doesn't really want to respond to that name he hasn't gone by in a lifetime at least. He closes his eyes, breathing out as he takes his coffee.

"Clint," his voice is thick, he keeps his eyes closed for a moment before turning to face the dishwater blonde. When John does open his eyes, he sees Clint watching him, a unreadable look on his face. From this close he sees the worn look on his face, the slight crinkles in the corners of his eyes.

"Never thought I'd see you again," Clint seems to be out of it, thinking back to when they had been young. It had been a lifetime for them both, both aged slightly more from things they'd rather not mention.

He'd known the blonde had lost his parents young, had been shipped around foster homes more times than he could recall before Barney had dragged him away to join the circus. Then it had seemed unimaginable to go though that many homes and still have no one, but that was before he'd lost his own family, had gone though a similar ordeal.

"I could say the same of you," for the longest time he'd thought the other dead, he'd looked him up and the last thing he'd been able to find were army records that stopped when he was twenty-one. "Thought you were dead," it doesn't come out hateful or upset, just quiet, truthful.

"I heard about what happened, I'm sorry," he says instead of acknowledging the assumption. News travels fast when you've been in the circus, which is in part why he couldn't hate the blonde who'd been his friend who'd just disappeared overnight. It was kept from him what had happened at first, perhaps so he wouldn't go to try and find him.

"Don't," he shakes his head, grips his coffee slightly tighter. After a moment of silence he sighs. "I don't go by that name anymore," he doesn't miss the slight quirk of the blonde's lips or the almost silent laugh. Clint's hand on his shoulder and he gives him this look, and it's like he knows.

"We should catch up."

And that's how they ended up back at Clint's small, but surprisingly cozy apartment, Clint sprawled out on his back while John watches him slowly come apart at his movements. Soft swears and gasps pass the archers lips, his hands on John's hips urging him on.

It's not fast, not rough but strangely intimate, something almost sacred and it sends shivers down the brunettes spine. John's fingers trace over the scars on his chest and stomach, making those gray blue eyes fall close, a shiver and near silent whine pass through him. John swallows, his own hips moving faster as Clint's push up into him.

The brunette gasps, his hands bracing himself on his shoulders, hips rolling down. His mind going back to the first time they'd done this, before being brought back to the present his hand wrapping around him. It doesn't take too much more for him to cum, spilling over Clint's taught stomach with a silent cry.

The way the archer tenses beneath him, a low moan passing his lips, filling him with warmth makes him let out a quiet noise. Another shiver runs through him before he slumps down on top of the other man. Both of them remain silent, the only noises in the room is their heavy breathing as they struggle to come back down.

Clint's fingers absently trace patterns at the small of his back, holding him close as he turns them, settling on his side. John's eyes remain shut but he can feel those eyes watching his face carefully as he slips from within him. The brunette sighs and opens his eyes, meeting those gray blue eyes. Neither of them break the silence with words. There is really no need to.

Clint smiles tiredly, his arm draped around his waist, still drawing patterns on his back. This is something familiar, surprisingly safe and comforting. And for once John sleeps soundly in someone elses arms.

**Author's Note:**

> In my head John is Dick Grayson, he and Clint grew up in the circus together. When Clint was left for dead by his mentor and brother he just disappeared from Dick's life. No on told him what happened until a year or so later. Then when his family died he went to so many foster homes followed by the orphanage. Bruce Wayne never met him until the events of the movie. He changed his name, got himself a place, put himself through the academy. But after discovering the Batcave he comes to New York for a while.


End file.
